The first trimester was a frightening parade of nausea and fatigue. I felt like I kept trying to climb out of a pit of despair, toward the light of a freedom where I wouldn't worry about opening the fridge or blacking out at 7:30 pm, only to fall back again and again.
|I'm about three cups of coffee shy of appearing awake here. I'm also clinging to my husband for support.|
My second trimester has welcomed back so many happy facets of my life.
I'm ahead at work rather than behind. My inbox has no more than two or three emails when I leave. When a new need pops up in my classroom, I'm ready rather than reactive. My work there brings me joy instead of dread and that means so much to me.
I can cook! To plan, buy, and orchestrate the happenings of the kitchen feels essential to my core. My husband is a great cook, but I'm often home first and my inability to move or smell or live like a normal functioning human being during the first trimester meant a lot of me trying to scramble to find something not too expensive but also not too processed to pick up for dinner. It was miserable. I come alive in the kitchen. The colors, the smells--I'm so happy to be back!
|Strawberry rhubarb coffee cake. *Strawberries are the 1st and only pregnancy craving I've ever had.|
I have the energy and focus to solve problems or make decisions with my husband. There were weeks on end when I would just beg Paul with, "Can we please just talk about this later?" Ugh. I sounded so whiny and yet I felt that I had given over and over and beyond at work and didn't have a single iota of brain work to give at home. Story of one "working woman" mommy who is also pregnant.
I'm working out! Someone suggested to me during the 1st trimester that I would feel better if I was exercising--which would be brilliant if I didn't feel like death warmed up. While she was very sweet and definitely right, I stared at her with some awkward not-sure-what-to-say-expression, but on the inside I was shuffling through very inappropriate responses [shouting, punching, shouting while punching] to choose. Luckily, I didn't have the energy to carry out any of those urges. But now? Now I'm working out! I'm hitting up the YMCA for a little baby bump on treadmill action, pulling double takes from my compadres who need to confirm that yes, indeed, that woman is walking for two. My legs strut fast enough and long enough for me to sing praises of endorphins on Twitter like the drugged up on a good life momma that I am.
And finally, the ultimate end cap to the so-flipping-glad-to-be-in-the-second-trimester blog post ---I'm in a good mood! I'm not sure what else to say here other than I'm humble and human enough to admit that I experienced a good dose of depression for the first couple of months. Hopefully you haven't touched that darkness, the one which is so bad you will yourself to tell the people very closest to you to keep you accountable and keep an eye on you because you really, really [and you're grabbing their hand or looking at them straight in the eyes or you just sound like you've gone off your rocker a little because you want to drive home your point] don't feel like yourself. My heart goes out to women and men who feel that burden as a typical, ongoing part of their life. It was difficult for me to endure for just a very short amount of time and I think I will be dedicating much of my prayer time this year to individuals who carry that cross currently and/or continuously.
|He does this puzzle every night and associates states with family members: Aunt Moira lives here, Lizzy and Anna live here, and Daddy works here [there are a lot of those states].|
And it's a very good thing to be yourself once again. Everything is such an apparent gift. The taste of marinated steak. A clean kitchen. Indulgence time that goes a little something like: bath + ice cream + homemade pedicure = 'I feel pretty' lyrics swarming up in my soul.
And time with my curious child who wonders, "Mommy, can you take the baby out right now?". Hmm. Maybe in a few months. I'm happy right where we are!